Once A Queen
by Guardian of Hope
Summary: In an instant Susan Pevensie loses everything. Now she must pick up the shattered pieces of her life and go on. Post Last Battle Susan/OC fic. Don't like older Susan? You might not like this...
1. Shattered Glass

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

* * *

As the sounds of a busy London street faded away, the woman sighed, it was hard to be in London every day; she much preferred her weekends in the country with her parents. However, life didn't fall to the whims of a girl, no matter how pretty she might be. Choosing a table, the dark haired beauty sat with a grace that had made her the envy of so many of her peers. No sooner had she placed her purse at her feet, one of the waitresses, not much older than she was, hurried over. "Can I get ye anythin' miss?" The waitress asked; her blue eyes evaluating Susan as she nervously tried to smooth the blond hair that was pulled back from her face and a style that turned sharp features to nearly harsh in stead of towards beauty.

"Tea," Susan replied, with a relieved smile, "Please." As the waitress walked away, Susan glanced around. At the table next to hers, an older man read the London Times. On the front was a story about a railway accident and she paused, her parents had been coming home on a train. Then she shook her head, surely she'd have been informed if there had been an accident. She might not speak to Peter, Edmund or Lucy often, but they would have called if it were something this big.

After enjoying her tea and breakfast, Susan left the café for the office where she worked as a secretary. It was a law office, a friend of her father's had helped her get the job, but she had kept it with her own merits. She heard often enough that she was too young to be as committed as she was, but Susan had learned long ago the value of hard work, and the fact that parties and invitations didn't pay for themselves. At five o'clock, she finished her work, bid farewell to her boss and headed home, stopping at the market for some fresh groceries.

As she let herself into the building her flat was in, she found two policemen waiting, "Can I help you, gentlemen?" She asked absently, debating if she should try to juggle her mail with her bags or check it tomorrow.

"Are you Susan Pevensie?" One of the two, an older gentleman with a look of deep sympathy on his face asked quietly.

"I am," Susan said, "why, is something wrong."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know if you heard about the railway accident outside of York?"

"I saw the article in the paper, but I haven't read it," Susan replied, her attention caught fully. She turned her dark eyes onto the policeman, tears already beginning to form.

"Miss. Pevensie," the policeman began, "I don't know how to tell you this…"

Susan took a deep breath, "All at once, please." She half-whispered; feeling her carefully structured world beginning to crack.

"We've identified Lydia, Nigel and Lucy Pevensie from the York to London train, and Peter and Edmund Pevensie on the London to York train." He said, as compassionately and quickly as he could.

The bags fell from Susan's suddenly nerveless fingers, she was vaguely aware of a cracking sound that had to be the eggs and a wet splat that would have been the tomatoes and the lettuce rolled out of the bag on a wandering path towards the wall as Susan suddenly couldn't breathe. She stumbled backwards; angling for the bench on the wall as all sound left the room, except for a roaring thud that she knew was her heart. Vaguely she felt arms steering her to the bench and she collapsed with a shallow, soundless cry. Around her, she could tell that people were moving, but she couldn't understand them. Where was she? Where was Peter, or Edmund, or Lucy? Why were they not here? Didn't they know she needed them?

A harsh scent in her nose made her jerk back, and brought the world into a startling clarity. "Oh," she said.

"Are you all right?" The policeman asked.

"No," Susan said, "I just lost _my entire family;_ I am most certainly _not_ all right." She looked around the foyer at her neighbors and the two policemen. Standing she drew up her dignity, and looked around the room, making sure to make a brief eye contact with everybody there, or at least, she appeared to. Peter had taught her that, back when being 'the Gentle' had been an honor and a curse. "Thank you for informing me of this." She told the policeman, "Where do I need to go to confirm their identities and see to the disposition of their bodies?" The family crypt would need to be opened and prepared for receiving the five of them. She would have to contact Peter's fiancé, and work, as well as Edmund's. Cambridge would need to know about Lucy, and there were flats to be cleared out and the leases dealt with. Her parents' home would need to be cleared out and dealt with. There were wills, she knew, and it would be her job to ensure that everything was handled smoothly.

"That will be in York, ma'am," the police officer replied. "Should you need assistance in getting there…"

"I assure you," Susan said, softly, "I am quite capable of doing what is needful. I hope that we will not meet further over this." Turning, her mind already running down the list of jobs to do, Susan swept up the stairs with the long forgotten dignity and grace of Queen Susan, the Gentle. Behind her, she left two bags of spilled groceries and a group of people in awe of her ability to cope. Had she felt so inclined, Susan could have told them that cleaning up after a battle with a witch in a world nobody else had ever seen would make a person able to cope with _anything._


	2. Shattered Past

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

* * *

Entering the morgue in York, Susan found herself clinging to the lion necklace her brother had given her for Christmas one year like it was a talisman to bring her family back from death. Dressed in a stylish black dress, she kept her head high as she followed the coroner's assistant to the place where her family awaited her. First, she saw her parents, who looked to be sleeping on the metal trays, her father's face lined, but no longer frowning over bills and her brothers. The scar on his cheek was nearly invisible under the harsh light used in the room. Beside him, her mother looked peaceful, with no sign of the terror that must have gripped her in that terrible last moment. Her dark hair with its silvery-gray streaks was smoothed and clean.

She barely heard the coroner's assistant speak as she looked at them; all she could do was nod. Beyond them was Peter, and he was smiling. She gasped, because it was not the smile of peace, but the quirky expression that he got when he was keeping a secret that no one could guess. With his bright gold hair and neatly trimmed beard and mustache, he was, even in death, High King Peter the Magnificent. All he needed was his crown and his sword, and he would be the spitting image of her favorite portrait.

Susan shook herself, shoving the childhood games from her mind, turning to look at Edmund. Here again was a smile, the sly smile he favored when something he'd plotted had come out right. His dark hair was smoothed down for the first time in years, and he, too, sported the beard and mustache that had once been his. All Edmund truly needed was his earring and he would be King Edmund the Just all over again. Susan mentally cursed, because she could not drive the memories back, none of the tricks she'd taught herself were working.

She turned from Edmund to be confronted with Lucy, who did not look like her once-form, Queen Lucy the Valiant. Instead, Lucy looked peaceful, with the smile she reserved for cold winter nights when she had a good mug of hot chocolate, and the faun Mr. Tumnus to tell her stories, and later there would be a Narnian lullaby that was some joke between the pair. The images were so real that she found herself wanting to ask why Lucy was wearing such dull clothes, when she should be dressed as benefited her rank. Then she called herself back to the present, and the task at hand.

"Ms Pevensie," the assistant said, in a tone to suggest he had repeated himself at least once.

"I'm sorry," Susan said, smiling tightly, "these are my brothers, sister and parents, yes."

"All right," the assistant said, gently, "you can leave now."

Susan nodded and started back to the door, as she passed her father, she stopped turned to the man, "I expected it to be worse," she said, quietly. "One always hears about fire and such during accidents."

The assistant looked at her for a long moment, "It is the oddest thing," he said, softly, "but your family and four others are like this. Not a mark on them at all. If I hadn't seen them pulled from the wreckage, I would never have believed it."

"What killed them?" Susan asked.

"Smoke," the assistant replied. "They were trapped in their cabins and died of smoke inhalation."

"Oh," Susan said, "thank you for telling me." She turned and left the morgue to find herself face to face with her Aunt Alberta and Uncle Harold. "What are you doing here?" She asks softly, seeing the sorrow on their faces.

"Eustace," Harold says as Alberta covered her face.

"Oh," Susan said.

"And you?" He asks after a moment.

Susan took a deep breath to calm herself, sternly reminding her body that she would have to tell someone at some point. "Everybody," she said, "Mum, Dad, Peter, Edmund and Lucy were on the trains."

"Oh you poor dear," Alberta manages after a moment, her voice chocked, "What will you do?"

"As soon as the bodies are released, I'll have the funeral," Susan said, "I've already begun contacting their jobs and friends. I'm not sure if I'll sell my parents' home or if I'll keep it as a summer home, it's in the Lake District. I will contact you when the funeral occurs, naturally."

"It seems you have a plan," Harold says.

Susan smiled gently, "It's the best way to stave off panic and shock. As long as I can keep moving forward, I'll be fine."

"If you need anything," Alberta began.

"You lost a son," Susan told her, resting her hand on Alberta's arm, "that is enough grief for now." She stepped back, "I have to go," she said, "I'll let you know when the funeral is." She turned and began to make her way through the building. As she climbed up the stairs, Susan dabbed away the few tears that broke through the iron control she kept on herself.


	3. Shattered Truth

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

* * *

Susan wasn't sure she could survive the funeral, between the number of people there and the five caskets that would have to be buried. She had opted for closed caskets, not sure that she could stand staring at them while her parents' priest droned on and on. The only blessing was that Harold and Alberta ("No need for Aunt and Uncle, Susan. We're family after all;") were there and would help keep the well wishers to a minimum.

Still, as she sat in the church and listened to the music, she couldn't help but to think how wrong it all was. This shouldn't be the music that bid farewell to three monarchs. There should be heavy drums to keep the time, and the haunting pipes playing, and maybe a harp, played by a singer. Not these strange and awkward notes and off-key singers.

A hand on her arm drew Susan out of her thoughts, Alberta peered into her face for a long moment and Susan smiled tightly. It wasn't right, but she had her duty. As the last hymn finished, pallbearers came forward to bring the five caskets out of the church and Susan stood to follow. She looked up and studied the crowds as she moved through the church. There were so many there, people she knew, and some she did not, but all of them friends of her family. From the RAF pilots who had flown with Peter and Edmund's fellow law students, to the girls that Lucy had made friends with, not so many of those, Lucy was a rare sort and did not interact well with the average young woman her age.

Outside, and in to the church yard, and across the parking lot to the graveyard where her family would be laid to rest; it was, fittingly, a dull, grey day, and Susan took a deep breath, wishing that she was smelling air that had never been touched by smog. Soon, she'd be at her parents' place, the home they'd inherited from a distant aunt, and away from the crowds and the world she wanted so desperately to escape.

For now, she took her place beside her father's grave as the small, graveside service began. Susan kept her head bowed, staring at the grass beneath her feet and trying to figure out why it was happening. Her mind was whirling, again, dancing between what she had sworn was the truth for so long, and memories that she had buried and shoved away out of fear.

"Susan," Alberta said gently, "It's over."

"Ok," Susan said, she looked at her aunt, "If you and Harold will go ahead, I'll be there shortly. I want to say good bye."

"We don't want to leave you here," Harold said.

"I brought father's car," Susan replied, "I'll drive myself back." She managed a smile, "Please, I need to be alone to say good bye."

"Don't be too long," Alberta said finally, "that storm looks like it'll be a bad one."

"Don't worry," Susan said, "I'll be back before you know it."

She watched her aunt and uncle leave, along with everyone else, and then she turned to the three caskets she'd wanted to ignore. For a moment, she stood still, then she walked forward as her memories surged, filling her with what she had struggled to forget.

First was Lucy, a little girl who had grown into a warrior. Susan remembered her smiles, the smile of content, reserved for the quiet moments in life. Her smile of mischief, usually seen after getting Peter with a snowball, or when she'd joined the foxes, great cats, wolves and hounds in pranking somebody. It was, in truth, rare for her to play pranks in England, but in Narnia, she had been the ringleader. Of course, it had also been her cover, for who would suspect the youngest, and seemingly most innocent of their number to be the spymaster?

Then Edmund, the Just, they'd called him. He had an amazing mind for law and judgment. As a law student, she knew he would have been considered a top lawyer one day, and maybe even a judge. Edmund had been the one in the beginning who had understood those who fought for the White Witch. He had created laws that gave them a chance to be a part of Narnia, while ensuring that they new they were on the loser's side. He had understood the intricacies of judging a case and had developed a system of law, both in the few cities, and in the wide countryside.

Then Peter, who had been called gold-crowned even without his crown; he had been the warrior, and under Oreius's tutelage, had gained an understanding of war and tactics that had been unsurpassed. He was a rising star in the RAF, or had been. She had buried him in uniform, but had declined the military honors he was due, wanting to bury them together as was proper.

As the storm that had been waiting broke overhead, Susan turned and walked away, schooling her face to reveal nothing. Especially how much it hurt when she had made her final decision; for you see, she had left no space between Peter and Edmund. They had journeyed on to Aslan's Country, and there would be no place for her there.


	4. Shattered Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

* * *

She is living for one thing now; it is her only driving force. The first full moon of summer is coming, and for the first time since she put aside Narnia for England, Susan will celebrate. With her carefully horded money, she has commissioned a dress the likes of which she has not worn since she'd been in Narnia. Added to it, is a set of pipes, made by humans, but sweet enough in tune to serve the purpose she has.

Finally, it is time, and Susan heads north to the Lake District, where her parents had moved after Lucy entered Cambridge. The house there was her grandparents, past down to her parents and now to her. Here, also, is where she buried her family.

On soft feet, Susan entered the cemetery under the blazing red of a setting sun, dressed in a pale grey dress that is Narnian in style, if not in make. In one hand, she carried a box; in the other are her reed pipes. As she stepped between the headstones to her brothers and sister's graves, Susan took a final, deep breath, to prepare for what she would do. Standing there, Susan stared at the headstones that mark the graves, and then lifted her eyes to the full moon that danced among the trees. "Summer Moon," she said aloud as she toed off her shoes. "Can you see it?"

Barefoot, she opens the box to remove the crown of daisies she had created that afternoon and places it on Lucy's grave; "To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the valiant," she murmured, remembering that day. Next, she takes out a carved fox, so lifelike that she expects it to talk. She places this on Edmund's grave, whispering, "To the Great Western Wood, I give you King Edmund, The Just." In her mind was the first time Edmund had stepped forward to advise Peter in court, and the many, many times he'd wandered the halls of Cair Paravel, reading a scroll and dodging people at the same time. For Peter, it is a knight, dressed in gold washed mail and a shield with a rampant lion; "To the Great Northern Sky, King Peter, the Magnificent." There was no questioning her thought of Peter, in his gold-washed mail and triumphant smirk after a battle against giants, or bandits. Stepping back, she lifted the pipes and began to play.

First she played _The Long Winter,_ for there is no other song she knows that is sadder. She followed it with others, playing songs for the tragedy that Narnia had become, that her life had become. She ended with the heartbreaking _A Song for Summer,_ the song that she had played every year in Narnia, either with her siblings, or alone, but every year, four pipes had carried the same song deep into the night.

As Susan lowered the pipes, she tugged a handkerchief from her bodice and dried her eyes before turning. The pipes fell from her nerveless fingers as the moon illuminated two very familiar figures. Aslan approached, with an almost translucent Peter. "Peter," she said.

"Hello Sue," Peter replied.

"Queen Susan," Aslan added.

Susan gasped and curtsied as best she could, "Aslan." She said.

"You have forsaken me," Aslan told her.

"No," Susan said.

"You have," Aslan said. "I brought you to Narnia that you would know me. Then I sent you to England in hopes that you would find me as I am here."

"I looked," Susan told him, "I looked, I don't understand, I couldn't find you!"

Peter lifted his hand, "Calm down, Susan, I know. I didn't understand it either, not until now."

"You've made it into Aslan's Country," Susan said, "are Edmund and Lucy there?"

"Yes," Peter smiled, "and so many others, we've even gotten to see Mum and Dad."

"Are they happy?" Susan asked, afraid of the answer, but needing to hear it.

"Everyone's worried about you," Peter replied. "It's been almost a year and you've changed so much."

"I have nothing here," Susan said, "I want to come home, Peter."

"Not yet," Aslan said, "I need you here."

"Alone?" Susan asked.

"Not for always," Aslan replied.

"Susan, we can't stay," Peter said, "No matter how much I hate leaving you here alone. I just, look, Sue, I need you to trust me, ok?"

"Of course," Susan said.

"Talk to a priest. Not just talk, but listen. All the clues to finding Aslan are here." Peter smiled, "I have to go."

"No," Susan said.

"I am sorry," Aslan said, "we can only stay so long. Come here." Susan stepped forward, struggling not to cry anymore than she already was, and Aslan breathed on her. "You will not be alone forever, I promise."

Susan woke up; she leaned against Peter's headstone. She glanced around, and realized that with the angle of the moon that it was not quite midnight. She stood up, wondering if she had just been dreaming, but when she lifted her hand to her hair, she pulled off her old crown.


	5. Fragile Glass

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: In the interest of moving on, I intend to 'flash foward' through to each of the important scenes now. Also, who the doctor resembles is fairly easy to guess, I think, but I may not have been as distinct as I'd planned. Let me know if you're unsure.

* * *

The church near her parents' home was nearly identical to many featured in pictures, with its white walls, and cross on the steeple and stained glass windows. Susan hesitated as she looked up at it, wondering if she could have the courage to enter. "The church and grounds are barred to no one," a voice announced. Susan jumped spinning to find a man in priestly clothing approaching from around the side of the church, "I apologize for startling you, I am Father Ryan."

"Susan Pevensie," Susan replied, she smiled, "and I was already nervous about coming here."

"Ah, now I do know you," Father Ryan said softly. "I think the whole county knows you now."

"Yes," Susan said, remembering the funeral this man had presided over.

"It must comfort you to know they are in heaven," Father Ryan said, "and are, no doubt, waiting for you."

Susan shrugged, "I have not the faith they did," she temporized, remembering the long ago days when they had spoke of Aslan's Country. "But I thank you for the sentiment."

"That is a sad thing," Father Ryan replied, "is there anything I can do to help?"

Susan hesitated, and then smiled, "I was interested in seeing the church," she said. "I've wanted to find my faith again. The churches in London that are near my home are large and seem impersonal, or heavy with history. I know my parents liked this church, so I thought I would come here."

Father Ryan smiled, "You are welcome here, Ms. Pevensie; as are all who come seeking the Lord. Will you stay for the Sunday service?"

"I would like to," Susan replied with her own smile.

"Then welcome to St Francis," Father Ryan replied. "Welcome home."

That winter, Susan found out just how right Father Ryan was. Although she still worked in London, she came to the Lake District every other weekend to spend time with the church and to get to know her neighbors. Carefully, through long talks with both the church elders and Father Ryan, Susan began to put together a new life. It wasn't easy, and there were times when Susan longed to just go out with her friends like she once had, but she was working for something better, a new future.

As spring came, Susan began to look seriously into moving into her parents' home, she was tired of London, and tired of feeling sick at heart every time she had to leave the Lakes. Not that there were many jobs, but she believed that the chance would be worth it.

Then, as the first full moon of summer approached, and Susan began to make plans to spend a week at the lake house, Father Ryan approached her after Sunday service, "Susan," he said.

"Yes?" Susan asked as she turned and smiled at her friend.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet," Father Ryan said, gesturing slightly. "I told you that I had served with an army surgical unit correct."

"I remember," Susan said.

"This is one of the doctors from that unit, Phillip Benbow; he's recently moved here to take over the practice from Dr. Marsh," Father Ryan said. A man came up from behind Susan and she turned slightly, preparing to give a polite greeting.

Then her bible slipped from her hands as she got a good look at the man. He was tall, and appeared to be in his early thirties, with black hair that looked as if he'd run his hand through it a time or two, and dark skin. For a moment, Susan's mind spun, superimposing another man's face, and she barely managed to keep from either crying out or naming him by another's same. "Are you all right?" Phillip asked, and his crisp, English tone brought her back to England.

"Yes," Susan said, clenching her teeth and organizing her thoughts. "It's only that you startled me. You look like someone I knew as a girl."

"Really?" Phillip replied, "I would ask if it's a good memory, but you looked so frightened."

"No," Susan said, she smiled, "he was a good friend for the short time I knew him." At the man's raised eyebrow, she added, "He died. It would be more accurate to say that I thought I was seeing a ghost."

"Do you believe in ghosts, Ms. Pevensie?" Phillip asked.

"'There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in your philosophy,'" Susan quoted with a smile. "Does that answer your question, doctor?"

"Completely," Phillip replied, "But I find I must insist that you call me Phillip."

"And I am Susan," Susan replied with a slight nod of her head.

"I asked Ryan if he knew of someone looking for work in the area," Phillip said, "Dr Marsh's receptionist, Mrs. Kline, is leaving as well. He told me you were looking for a job?"

Susan smiled, "I am. After my parents'…death, I inherited their home here and I find that I would much prefer to live here than in London."

"Perhaps we could discuss further details over lunch?" Phillip asked with a hint of a flirtatious smile.

Susan bowed her head to somewhat conceal her blush, "That sounds nice," she managed.

"Then in one hour, let us meet at Mario's, do you know the place?" Phillip smiled at Susan's smile and nod, "Good. That will give me time to change. As often as I wear a suite and tie, I find that I often cannot stand them."


	6. Fragile Past

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: This chapter is shorter than any of the others because to put any more on would ruin the 'capture a scene' style, or become too forced. For those who haven't figured it out, Phillip has a superficial resemblance to Prince Caspian ala movie-verse.

* * *

Susan found Phillip to be an engaging man, with a dry sense of humor and an easy charm for settling patients. He also liked to flirt with her at seemingly random intervals, which was unsettling, but also reassuring. Over the summer, she found herself coming to like the handsome doctor, and if the patients, many of whom were retired and women, speculated over their relationship, or lack there of, Susan was happy to just be friends.

In fact, Susan considered Phillip and Ryan to be better, and closer friends, than any of the girls she'd gone to school with. Outside of her family, they were better friends than anybody she'd known in England. Ryan was like her brothers, with deep faith in his chosen god, but still strong in a worldly manner. When Ryan's sister Emily and her husband moved to the village, Susan found the young mother to be someone else who was destined to be a good friend.

One of the best parts was that they let her have her peace; they didn't bother her on Summer's Moon, and were there on the second anniversary of her family's death. Susan knew she only had to pick up her phone and she would be connected with Emily, Phillip and Ryan as needed and they would come to help her if she asked.

It was coming into autumn when Susan realized that she had rebuilt the bonds she'd once had with her siblings, with Phillip as Peter, Ryan as Edmund, and Emily as Lucy. It happened when Susan had referred to Emily as Lucy; and although she played it off as a resemblance to her sister, Susan was deeply troubled. Emily, being the good natured woman she was, let it go at that and did not push Susan any further.

That evening at home, Susan put a lot of thought into what was going on, and it was a picture that showed her some of it. The realization shook her to the quick and she found herself almost fleeing to the graves of her family. She knelt before Peter's grave, wrapping her arms around her stomach for a long moment, staring at the stone and trying to calm herself, and the sudden panic that she was recreating her family and losing her mind.

"Susan?" Phillip said, jerking Susan from her thoughts.

"Phillip," Susan replied, though she did not look at him.

"Are you all right?" Phillip asked.

"I don't know," Susan replied. She looked up at Phillip as the tears slipped down her cheeks; "What am I doing, Phillip? Why am I happy?"

"Because you are meant to be," Phillip replied, kneeling beside her. He offered her one of his handkerchiefs, which she accepted. "Wouldn't your brothers want you to be?"

"I don't know," Susan said as she dabbled at her eyes. She looked back at Peter's headstone, wishing she'd been daring enough to put 'The Magnificent' there as a private joke. "We weren't as close as we once were."

"Well," Phillip said, "I will say this, if your brothers loved you as much as you clearly love them, they would want you to be happy."

"I called Emily Lucy today," Susan said after a long moment of silence. She spoke softly, staring down at his handkerchief.

"She told me," Phillip said. He put his hand on Susan's shoulder, "Susan?"

"Yes Phillip?" Susan asked, looking back at him and seeking something in his face beyond the echo of another.

"I can't know what you are thinking," Phillip said, his dark eyes soft with concern, "but maybe this will help." He leaned over and kissed her gently.

That kiss was, for Susan, a moment of eternity. A beginning to something, and the end to everything, and Susan melted into it. She welcomed this beginning and end because, unlike the last one, her world was finally settling into place.


	7. Mended Dream

Disclaimer: I am not CS Lewis, nor do I get money to write this.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: Sorry this took so long to get here guys, but it's here!

* * *

Autumn faded to Winter, and when Spring came again, Susan was well and truly in love. She hadn't known what to expect from Phillip, but quickly found that she was unable to doubt that he loved her. She let him in slowly, showing him pieces of herself that she had long since buried. Still, even as she celebrated Summer Moon while playing A Song of Summer, Susan did not speak of Narnia, or of the Great Lion who walked with her in her dreams.

Susan never forgot Queen Susan the Gentle; but she did not let that lifetime become her only one. Instead, she took the lessons of The Gentle and became Susan Pevensie, the last of her name, beloved of Philip Cristobel Benbow and friends to Emily and Ryan, and Godmother to little Peter. Emily's choice of Peter had put tears in Susan's eyes, even if the boy had been named for his paternal grandfather.

It was a life Susan could not see lasting, and as she came again to place flowers for her family, it ended. And for the third time, it was Phillip who ended it. He was there, at the graveyard, when she arrived, looking nervous and hopeful all at once. "What's going on?" Susan asked as she approached.

"Let me help with the flowers," Phillip said, reaching as she nearly dropped one bunch. "Then I'll explain."

Together, they placed the flowers on the appropriate graves, and then Phillip took her hand, "I came here because I know how important your family will always be." He said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I couldn't ask your father, but," he knelt and produced a simple, black velvet box, "Will you marry me?"

Susan stared at him, and then fell to her knees, swaying, "Yes," she said finally, tears welling in her eyes. She tried to summon up her skills of emotion, only to find that they had quite deserted her. Instead, she half-fell, half-threw herself against Phillip, and rested her head on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her as Susan found that she was torn between tears and laughter. Tears, that her family could not be there, and laughter, that she had this wonderful new life.

Finally, Susan sat back and watched as Phillip slipped the ring on her finger, "This doesn't mean you can be late on Monday," Phillip informed her.

"I didn't think it would," Susan replied gravely.

Then, gently, slowly, Phillip kissed her. Susan closed her eyes and sighed.

Autumn passed, and Winter, while Susan planned her wedding. It would be a simple, country wedding, filled with tradition and ceremony. Phillip left her to the planning with an indulgent smile, his only request that she not bankrupt him. Emily helped immensely, and when the Benbows arrived for Christmas, she was ready to tell them that the wedding was under control, despite what Mrs. Benbow might think on the matter. What followed that was a negotiation as delicate as any that she'd faced in Narnia. Be the time Christmas was over, Susan had won; she was getting her small country wedding. It was the first negotiation skirmish in the battle for her wedding. Susan wanted small, tasteful and private. Mrs. Benbow wanted the social event of the season. When Mrs. Benbow gave her first concession, Susan knew she had already won.

Summer Moon was the day she had chosen, never revealing, even to Phillip, just why that day was the only day that would work. Madeline Benbow had wanted a day with meaning, something that would impress her social circle. Susan's chosen day had no importance to anyone but her. The designer dresses Mrs. Benbow had tried to interest her in had been put aside in favor of Susan's secret wedding dress. The flowers were a struggle, with Mrs. Benbow even trying to cancel and replace Susan's choice. After that, Susan gave each of the groups she hired, photographer, caterer, band, ect., a code that only she would know to give them to implement the changes. By the time her wedding came around, Susan had gained a new appreciation for her married friends who hated their mother-in-laws.

As the day dawned, Susan watched her bridesmaids rush around doing their hair and makeup, amused. Mrs. Benbow had been beside herself at Susan's refusal to get ready, and, even as she solved the various crises, she shot the bride looks. Half an hour before the ceremony, Susan sent everyone out of the room and dressed. The final piece was a cloak that would hide her dress until just before the ceremony. After all, she wanted to stun Mrs. Benbow social hungry family. They didn't know that they were marrying into Royalty, after all.

There was a great deal of fuss, of course, when she refused to show anyone her dress, and kept her veil tucked away in a hat box until they were in the entry way to the church. Of course, that's when the final battle began as Mrs. Benbow realized that Susan had invited few people to the wedding, and had nobody to walk her down the aisle. "My dear, surely there is someone," Mrs. Benbow said, finally.

Susan shook her head, "Absolutely not," she said. "There are three people who should have been here anyone one of which would have walked me down the aisle. As they are not here, I will not assign someone to their place. It would dishonor the memory of my family. Please, take your seat so that this ceremony may begin."

Mrs. Benbow huffed, but allowed herself to be escorted to her seat. With a sigh, Susan slipped off her enveloping cloak. "Sweet merciful heavens!" Emily gasped, stunned.

Susan grinned, "Do you like it?"

The dress was an empire waist, long sleeved number that had a find under dress that had been embroidered in white with leaves and stars, and a lion's head which was hidden under the velvet overdress, that emphasized her bust and hung just so, to show her slender yet womanly figure. There were faint touches of gold to the piece, at the waist, on the long, trumpet sleeves of the overdress and around the hem to keep the dress from flying every which way. Her black hair, a waist-length object of her greatest pride, had been left long, captured only by a series of gold-plated metal bands. Over top her hair, Susan fitted her veil, and took from her hat box her most important possession. On Summer Moon, Susan had once seen her brother Peter and Aslan at the graves. To prove it had not been a dream, Aslan had left the golden crown that had been hers as Queen Susan the Gentle. It didn't not look like a crown, as the people of England would see it, being made to resemble an ivy runner with stars tucked amongst the leaves, but as Susan, with Emily's help, slipped it into the veil, she knew that she was finally ready to face her real past.

As the music began and the flower girl and her ring bearer escort started down the aisle, Susan looked into the mirror Ryan had placed in the antechamber of the church and whispered, "To the radiant Summer Sun, I give you, Queen Susan the Gentle." And smiled as she accepted the red roses Emily handed her.


	8. Mended Truth

Disclaimer: I am not CS Lewis, nor do I get money to write this.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: I said that Susan had yet to get her happy ending, fair warning! Also, do I really need to _quote_ The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe for you?

* * *

"Married life agrees with you," Emily told her, and Susan could only laugh. It did, she knew, and she wondered had how it had taken her two lifetimes to reach that point. After a honeymoon in America, Susan had come home and settled down to life as a country doctor's wife. It wasn't a life she thought she'd be happy with, but now, she couldn't imagine any other. There was so much that went into keeping a home that Susan found that she didn't miss working. Now that young Samantha was helping Phillip, Susan found herself spending more time with the women of the village.

Of course, none of them guessed for a while what made married life so very special to Susan, not until she started to show, of course. For those nine months, Susan wondered that she wasn't physically glowing, she was so happy. Nothing stole that wondering glow from her, not morning sickness (or noon sickness, or night sickness), not growing larger as her firstborn grew.

On March 19th, in the midst of a spring storm, Phillip and Susan welcomed Lewis Peter into their lives. Unfortunately, the joy of a family was short lived. Lewis died of an infantile fever before the end of his third month.

Susan spent the month of June in tears, with only Phillip giving her comfort. July, she spent carefully returning to the village social circles. People spoke of her quiet strength, and the stories of her family made the rounds, and some wondered that she was still sane having lost so much family. By October, however, even those rumors and whispers had died. In December, Susan quietly told her husband of her new condition and in August, nearly three weeks early, Rose Lucy was born. The red faced infant had strong lungs and gave Susan the emotional closure she had secretly needed.

Rose was followed by Edward and Eric, then Janie, and finally Daniel, all of them strong, all of them happy. All of them were full of energy as well, and Susan felt young again as she watched after them. When they were old enough, as she saw it, she called them into Daniel's room during that little boy's bed time. "I have a story to tell you," she announced, and hid a smile at the looks her children exchanged. Then she looked up and smiled at Phillip, posed in the doorway. "This is a story of four very special children, and magic."

"There's no such thing as magic," Rose declared. She was twelve and "grown up", with her father's black curls and Susan's complexion.

"Really?" Susan said, "Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows there's no such thing as magic," Rose said, tossing her head slightly.

"Ah," Susan said, "well I'm not everyone and I say that there is magic, if you know where to look." She pulled Daniel against her side, "This story is very special and you are going to hear it, Rose. So settle down." After watching Rose a moment, Susan smiled down at Daniel, and stroked his golden curls, "Now, back during the War, there were two boys and two girls, brothers and sisters, being sent away from London during the bombings. They were being sent to live with an old friend of the family, and a retired professor, who owned a big house in the country. Their names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy."

"That's your brothers and sister's names, mum," Rose said.

"Yes, they are," Susan said. "Now hush, silly. As I said, Professor Kirke lived in a big house in the country filled with many historical artifacts and rooms were a child could get lose. Not to mention fields where there were all manner of animals to see, and plenty of room for cricket and other games. However, the day after their arrival, it was raining and the children were very bored. It took some time, but Lucy, who was eight, managed to convince the others to play hide and seek. While looking all over the house for a place to hide, Lucy found a room that contained only a giant wardrobe, into which she hid."

Susan measured her words carefully as she told of the magic in the wardrobe and Lucy's meeting with Mr. Tumnus. She told them of Spare Oom and War Drobe, the lamp post and Narnia. As Daniel and Janie succumbed to sleep, she told them about tea with Mr. Tumnus and the White Witch. And when only Rose was stubbornly awake, she told of Lucy's return to England, not seconds after her departure.

"What happened next?" Rose asked as Phillip came in to pick up Edward and Susan lifted Eric.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Susan replied. "Go get ready for bed."

Once the twins were safe in their beds, and Rose tucked away to read until she slept, Phillip and Susan retired to their room. "That was quite the story," Phillip said. "How much of it is true?"

Susan laughed softly, "It is a game we played," she said, hiding a pang at how demeaning that phrase was. "I thought it would make a good story.

"Yes," Phillip said, "but Fauns, and magic?"

"And Jesus," Susan replied; softly, taking a black journal from her dressing table. "I've put a lot of thought in this Phillip. If you want to read ahead…"

"I trust you," Phillip replied, kissing her forehead. "Now come to bed."


	9. Dream Shattered

Disclaimer: I am not CS Lewis, nor do I get money to write this.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: *Whimpers* People are going to kill me for this, I think...uh, this is the second to last chapter of Once a Queen. Please note, the Dream has a purpose, even if Phillip does not actually remember it.

* * *

"For you see," Susan said, smiling at her children, "this world is but a reflection, and all of its good things live on in Aslan's Country."

"But, what happened to Susan?" Rose asked the fourteen year old was sprawled on the floor, staring up at her mother. "Did she go to Aslan's Country?"

Susan smiled softly, "Not yet, Rose," she said, "Susan lived."

"That's awful," Rose replied, looking at her brothers, "I couldn't imagine losing my whole family."

Susan shifted, "Rose, come with me. It's time we had a little talk."

Phillip came from his position at the door and carefully woke the twins as Susan led Rose into Rose's bedroom. "What is it?" Rose asked.

"I've never made it a secret, how my family died," Susan said, sitting on the bed and patting the bedspread. "It was the worst day of my life." She smiled as her daughter sat down, and rested her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "However, I was able to move on because I had learned a few things. The first one was the hardest, but I will tell you, 'Be silent, and be still.' What this means is that if you do not know what is going on, or what to say, say nothing, do nothing. I've found that counting to twenty-five is a good way to let my mind settle. Being still, being calm, it doesn't send out prey signals for the hunters. Trust me, you'll see as many hunters here as anywhere else. Show them that you are Rose Benbow, daughter of Susan and though you may be small, you are a lioness."

"Do you really think so?" Rose asked.

"I know so," Susan replied, kissing her forehead gently. Glancing up, Susan saw Phillip watching them, "Now go to bed, dearest. Morning comes earlier every day around here." She moved so Rose could climb under the covers, and watched Phillip hug and kiss their daughter.

Holding hands, Susan and Phillip retired to their room and split to get ready for bed. "Oh," Phillip said, "A lioness?"

"It suites her," Susan said, "brave, strong, a fighter, but gentle when needed." She sat at her dressing table and began to remove her makeup. She looked up at Phillip rested his hands on her shoulders, "Yes, love?"

"Are there any more stories?" Phillip asked.

"A few," Susan said, she opened the drawer with her notebooks. "The beginning of Narnia, for sure; I have one other one finished. Just a story of high intrigue and such; the boys will like it."

"Come to bed," Phillip said, "please."

Susan did, resting her head on Phillip's shoulder, "You're warm," she said.

"You're so thin," Phillip replied, "the cold just goes straight through you. I think you've lost weight."

Susan yawned, "Not so much."

That night, Phillip dreamed that he stood in an orchard, with fresh fruit waiting to be picked. The air had a crisp quality that could only be found in late summer and early autumn, when the world seemed torn between linger in the warmth and drifting into the coldness of winter. As he looked around, Phillip could not believe how _real_ everything seemed. There was no sense that it was a dream, but at the same time, he knew that he was dreaming. "Welcome, Son of Adam," a deep voice said; if a voice could growl and purr at the same time, this one did. Philip turned and found himself looking at a great Lion, it was taller than he, and was great and terrible at the same time. "My name is Aslan. This is High King Peter."

A tall, young man with golden hair stepped up beside Aslan with a little half smile, "Call me Peter," he said, hand rising self consciously to adjust the golden crown he wore.

"I'm Doctor Phillip Benbow," Phillip said.

"We know," Peter replied, resting on hand on the Lion. "Susan told us."

"Susan? As in, my wife Susan?" Phillip asked.

"Yes," Aslan said, "Queen Susan, your wife, told us much about you."

"Who are you?" Phillip said.

"Peter Pevensie," Peter said, "Susan is my sister. Yes, I'm dead, and you're dreaming. Sort of. You are asleep, but this is really happening."

"I don't understand," Phillip said, his eyes darting back to Aslan.

"Peter will explain," Aslan said, "and he can send you home afterwards." The Lion turned and walked into the orchard, walked past one tree and vanished.

"He comes and goes," Peter said, "on his own schedule; after all, he is not a tame lion."

"You are Susan's brother Peter," Phillip said, "but how…"

"Aslan," Peter shrugged, "works in mysterious ways. We did need to speak with you, however. At least, I do. Walk with me, there's others who want to meet you." Phillip found himself falling in step with the younger man without thought. "I want to thank you for helping Susan. We, none of us, meant to leave her behind, or alone. We weren't as close as we had been, what with Susan's desire to forget Narnia and our desire to return here."

"Narnia? Susan said that was a game," Phillip protested.

"She does that," Peter replied, "I think at first, she did it to protect herself from the hurt, and then she chose to continue the belief because she wanted to be grown up and grownups don't believe in magic. Now, she says it because you could not accept the truth."

"Truth?" Phillip sputtered.

"Susan is the last living Narnian Queen," Peter replied, "the last living Monarch at all, actually. Her children are our Heirs. Though our Narnia is long gone, the line will exist as long as her children do. Rose, in particular, would have made a good Queen. Even Helen and Frank say that. Frank was the one who named her the Lioness."

"I don't understand," Phillip said.

Peter stopped walking and turned to stare at Phillip, his summer sky blue eyes intense, "Susan's stories are true. We did step into a wardrobe and found a world of magic. This world. We fought a war when were the same age as your children and won. Directed by prophecy and gratitude, they named us their Kings and Queens and we ruled them in a golden age. Then we went home and spent a year learning to be children yet again, until a new need, a new summons, brought us back. We put another on the throne that had once been ours and trusted him with Narnia. When we were sent home, Susan and I were told we would never return to our Narnia again. We had grown too old. It was time for us to take the lessons of Narnia and use them in England; to find Aslan in England."

"Susan," Phillip said, stopped then began again, "Susan calls Jesus the Lion."

"Exactly," Peter said and grinned.

"So why am I here?" Phillip asked.

Peter became serious, "It's about Susan, she's going to need you very much, very soon."

"Why?" Phillip asked.

"She's dying." Peter said softly.

"No!" Phillip cried.

"Yes," Peter said. "She's sick, but she doesn't know how bad it is yet."

"Not Susan," Phillip said.

"She still has time," Peter replied, "I don't know how much, but there is time. You'll need to be strong for her, and for your children."

"How can you be so calm?" Phillip asked.

"Because, she's coming home," Peter replied. "We get to have Susan back, but the price; that she'll have to leave you, it's a heavy price."

Phillip shook his head, "I can't lose her now," he whispered.

Peter sighed, "I've had to tell people how their children died, but I've never had to tell someone their wife is dying. I do not know what to tell you. There is a reason we are telling you this now."

"What?" Phillip said.

"We want you and Susan to publish the Narnia stories," Peter said, "Susan has been writing them down for a while now, at Aslan's request. She's almost done. Now they need to be shared." He led Phillip around a final group of trees where a small group of people were waiting. "Phillip, I want you to meet the Pevensies," he said.

Phillip swallowed as he looked over the group, his eyes drawn to a tall man in the center of the group. Beside him, Peter said, "Our father, Nigel Pevensie."

"Sir," Phillip said, "Phillip Benbow, doctor."

"I know," Nigel said, his voice was tinged with amusement, "I'm glad you've been keeping an eye on my little girl."

Phillip nodded slightly, "She's a wonderful person, sir. It is very easy to love Susan."

"Our mother, Lydia," Peter murmured just before Phillip was engulfed in a warm hug.

"You saved her," Lydia murmured, "thank you." She stepped back and looked into his face, "And thank you for the grandchildren, they are a beautiful group of children."

Phillip flushed, "I only love her, ma'am, that's all."

"That's everything," Lydia corrected him.

Next was a tall youth with a crown and a smirk, "King Edmund," Peter said simply, "the Just."

"As in, just Edmund," Edmund said, "You've been good for Su, Phillip. I don't think there's a person here who would disagree."

"And finally Queen Lucy, the Valiant," Peter said.

Lucy was a young, beautiful woman who hugged him like her mother had, when she pulled back, she was crying, "I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her face, "I just, I never thought this was how I would meet you. I didn't think Aslan would bring you here before your time. You've done so much for Susan, and you don't even realize it, and my nieces and nephews, they're great." Lucy smiled, "I love Rose, she's such a character."

"Thanks," Phillip managed, as he looked at them, he couldn't believe how young they looked, even as he reminded himself that they had been young when they died.

"There's one more person we want you to meet," Peter said as the group stepped aside.

A young man stood there, with wavy, blue-black hair and anxious blue eyes, he was tall and clearly proud, even if he was also nervous. The shy smile on his face tugged at Phillip's memory and he frowned, trying to place him. "Phillip," Lucy said, as she stepped forward and tugged the young man's arm, "This is Louis."

"Hi, Da," Louis said.

"Louis?" Phillip whispered, and then stepped forward as if he'd been propelled and hugged his eldest. He stepped back, "You're grown up," he managed.

"Aslan says that it's supposed to work this way," Louis said, "I missed knowing you, though. Although Uncle-King Frank says that's a good thing, because," he lifted his chin with pride, "I am impossible."

Phillip laughed, "That's a Benbow trait, Louis."

The world jerked and the group became sad, but before Phillip could ask, he woke up. The alarm was going off, and Susan was warm in his arms. "Are you all right?" Susan murmured.

"Yes," Phillip said, "I just had this dream, about Louis." He kissed Susan's forehead, aware of her fragility, and got out of bed to start a new day. As he did so, the memory of the dream faded away, as such dreams will.


	10. Returned Truth

Disclaimer: I am not CS Lewis, nor do I get money to write this.

A/N: This is a post LB story about Susan, and how she dealt with losing her family. Because I am not British, nor overly familar with the 1940s and 1950s either in England or America, I am focusing on a minimal dialogue story. If I do write something that's horribly bad, let me know. I'll fix it and repost the chapter when I post the next chapter. If you don't like Susan, well, I'm not going to force you to read anymore of this story, although she will, in a way, find her own redemption. I've listed this as AU because I borrow some from the Book-Cannon, and some from the Movie-Cannon as needed.

A/N2: And thus, the story of Susan Benbow nee Pevensie comes to an end...

* * *

Susan couldn't keep the smile from her face as she watched Rose dress, the newly turned twenty-four year old was beautiful, and her wedding dress only emphasized that. An empire waist design like her mothers had been, Rose had favored Celtic knot work, to honor her fiancé's Scottish heritage. The under dress was made of a linen and silk blend, with a band of golden knot work at the waist and the hem of the skirt. The narrow sleeves were held close at her wrists with matching pieces. The sleeveless, sheer over dress was more like a robe, with a clasp holding it together just under her bust in the shape of a lion's head. The final, and most fitting, piece was the veil, held in place by Susan's crown.

"You look radiant," she said, "Lioness."

"Mum," Rose said, nearly wining, "you said you'd stop that."

Susan coughed, "I'm sorry, Rose. It's just, you're the Lioness, and I can't help but name you so."

"If I'm the Lioness, who are you?" Rose asked.

"The Gentle," Susan said, softly. She slipped her hand under the blanket that covered her lap, and pulled something out, "Look what I got from Jarrod today."

Rose picked it up, "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe," she read, "by C.S. Lewis. They published it!"

"Yes," Susan said. "They'll be publishing all seven books, actually."

"That's incredible," Rose said, she opened the book and flipped through it. "Why C.S. Lewis, though?"

"C for your father, Cristobel, and S for Susan; and Lewis for your brother," Susan replied simply.

Rose nodded and sat down, "Do you, do you think he would have been a good man?" She asked, softly.

"He is a good man," Susan replied, "In Heaven; I imagine he's one of the best." She touched her daughter's arm, "It's time, though. Daniel's coming to push me into the church."

Someone knocked on the door and it opened slightly, "Rose, Mum, it's time," Daniel said.

"Come on in," Rose said, "we're dressed."

Looking well turned out in his RAF uniform, Daniel strode in, and stopped, "Rose," he managed.

"What?" Rose asked, raising an eyebrow with all the authority that being the oldest had given her.

"You look spectacular," Daniel managed; his eyes drifted upwards, "Is that…Mum?"

Susan smiled, "Yes, Daniel, that is the wreath I wore at my own wedding. It belongs to Rose now."

The siblings exchanged a glance, uneasy at the reminder that their mother didn't have much time left. Susan insisted she would see her daughters married, but as the disease stole her strength, and recently her legs, the rest of the family wasn't sure. Daniel caught himself and walked over to stand behind his mom, "If Rose gets your wreath," he began.

"Janie will have her own legacy," Susan replied, thinking of a black velvet box hidden in the attic; "when she's ready." Although it didn't seem that her fair haired daughter would settle down any time soon. Janie was a busy woman, studying at Oxford and seemingly destined to find her success without love.

As Daniel pushed Susan's chair into the chapel where Father Ryan would marry Rose and her Scotsman, Ari, Susan reflected on her family. Rose had become a teacher, and planned to continue after her marriage, at least, until the first baby was born. Then the pair would settle down at Ari's family home and Rose would raise children and Ari would help his father with the family's textile business. Edward was on his way to being a lawyer, much like the uncle he favored, and Eric worked for Scotland Yard, on his way to being, if not famous, then certainly one of the best. As joint heirs of Edmund, Susan thought they were well suited. Janie was determined to be a lawyer as well, although it was hard to find anyone to take her seriously; except Susan. Daniel had joined the RAF and took to the sky like he had been born there. He reminded Susan of Peter, right down to having the same golden hair and blue eyes.

As the wedding march began, Susan turned her attention back to the present and turned slightly to watch Phillip walk Rose down the aisle.

Susan did see Jeanie married, and had anyone asked, she would have been rather smug, after all, she had seen Jeanie and Peter, Emily's son, together years before anyone else. And if there was a bit of an age difference, it didn't bother the young couple. Jeanie wore her mother's wedding dress and a silver wreath nearly identical to Rose's golden one. Susan did not live much longer, however. She did meet the woman Eric eventually married, but never saw it happen. The wasting disease claimed her life as she slept, her breath slipping away from her with a single word, "Aslan."

She was buried with her family in the church yard, with a simple, but elegant tombstone bearing the epitaph, "The Gentle".

In another world, Susan stood in an orchard filled with the white blossoms of spring. She wore a wine red gown and in her hands was a familiar ivory horn. She took a deep breath, relishing in the ease she did so, and then blew the horn. Its clear ringing notes echoed over the orchard and expanded outward. All across Narnia, people stopped to listen, and then the celebrations began. Queen Susan had come home at last.


End file.
